If everything you give is ultimately destined for Me, how then would you not be happy to give? Why would you not leap for joy at an opportunity to give to anyone anywhere when you know I am the Recipient? When you know that I am the destination of all your thoughts, what on earth would you withhold from Me? What would you keep for yourself in a tightened heart when you could free the whole world to Me? What joy would you not want to give to Me, and what joy would you not want to write across the skies?

And why would you possibly want to withhold any smidgeon of love from anyone? Do you see how you deny the truth of your own true heart when your thoughts are small? There is no corner in your heart for pettiness. Your heart never was meant for partitioning.

Any thought of yours that cuts another's heart and, therefore, their love for themselves, takes off a piece of your own heart. When you pour dark paint on another, it splatters on you. Not only that, any heart you don't brighten, you dim your surroundings. You are the brightener or the darkener of the world. You have great power within you. Your heart is a mighty wand. Take care how you use it. It is not meant to be a weapon.

The world needs its lights turned up. Your heart is meant to be My reflected light on earth.

Pay attention. All the light from your heart that winds up with Me also comes from Me. It is all from Me to Me. Your individuality is not the originator of love. The love in your heart is not yours. It is Mine. Therefore, you do not keep it. You return it.

My one message is ever the same but what happens is that it gets mis-heard and therefore mis-sent by voices along the way. Hear Me now and hear Me forevermore, because I whisper love in your ear. Actually, I call it out loud from a mountaintop. Let the echoes of My heart reach you clearly so that you may resound My message back to Me. I never stop singing it.

You are an interlocutory. Not to belittle your role, no, not at all, but intermediary is all you are. You are like a fax machine meant to relay what is given to it. It is not for you to adjust or amend the original message, but simply to pass on what is given to you. You are like a telephone. Telephones do not supercede the messages given over them. They do not delete nor add on. You are like a stenographer who writes down what he hears and not random imaginings of his own. You are a singer of My songs, of beautiful songs from on high. You are My singer.

Can you not do this for Me today? For one day? For one hour? For one minute? Is it so much to ask you to absolve yourself of anything less than My love and, in silence or by word or deed, pass on to the world the infinite love I give to you, not for safekeeping but for safe-giving.

You know by now the miracle: as you dispense My love, you find your heart filled with more. Your heart is replenished by the love you simply pass on. And I have given you a multitude of drop-off places. The next person you see or think of is one of them, and as with emails, you can send to many all at once and to all the corners of the world and so be a broadcaster of My love.